Grand Theft Revival
by Blair Xavier
Summary: Two years after GTA3, our "hero" finds himself in a crime-free city... but not for long! R for Language, Violence, and Racism/Prejudice


Note: I don't own GTA, Rockstar, or any of Rockstar's products.  
  
Ed. Note: Well, I've finally sat down, played GTA3 for about three full days, and I can tell ya one thing; the game's amazing. BTW, I've named the main character Mike O'Hara. So, here's the story.  
  
  
  
  
  
GRAND THEFT REVIVAL  
  
Chapter I:  
  
Welcome To Liberty City... Again!  
  
  
  
A small, burning white stick dropped onto the cement sidewalk, just outside the movie theater. A sneaker stepped onto the burnt end, and smeared the tobacco across the curb.  
  
'Jesus, that movie sucked...,' The person who stepped on the cigarette thought. 'I'd much rather blow away a pimp with a shotgun.'  
  
But alas, those days were over. The only criminals on the street were pick-pockets or small-time arsonists. No real gangs, factions, or crime mobs since the military tightened the security of Liberty City.  
  
Mike raised his hand to a nearby taxi. It pulled up, and, much to the relief of Mike, a white driver tipped his hat to the former gun-for-hire. Mike nodded, and stepped into the taxi. The cab driver asked,  
  
"Where to?"  
  
"Luigi's in the Red Light District."  
  
"Gotcha." The yellow car hummed as the motor spun faster, only to jerk to a halt at a red light. The cab driver cleared his throat, leaned back on his seat, and turned his eyes towards Mike.  
  
"So, you been here a while, bud?" The driver asked. Mike shook his head, blinking a few times before responding.  
  
"Yeah... Almost two years." Mike murmured, half to himself. He really wished a new gang or something would pop up...  
  
It was then when he looked at the taxi driver, when he noticed an old face...  
  
"...Luigi?!" Mike said, surprised that the owner of a strip club and whore house was driving a taxi cab. Luigi smirked and returned his attention to the road, turning the steering wheel to the right and pushing on the gas pedal.  
  
"You got it, man. I've been thinkin' of restartin' the old mob we had back before the military came. You wanna get back into the action, right Mike?"  
  
"Sure as shit yeah, Luigi! So, what's the job?"  
  
Luigi stopped at the strip club, turned off the cab, and stepped out of the car. Mike followed him into the back of the strip club.  
  
"C'mon in, bud. I'll explain inside."  
  
  
  
Mike leaned back in the wooden chair, an arm on the round metal table. Luigi sat across from him, both hands in the table, his fists to his lips in deep thought. Then, the idea hit em'.  
  
"Mike, where does the military get all of it's weapons from?" He asked, a small hint of talkshow trivia in his voice. Mike thought for a second, and flicked his thumb.  
  
"I think the convoy that comes here every two months, with the full escort of five tanks."  
  
"Exactly. That convoy arrives tomorrow night at ten. I want you to err... "liberate" a tank, and destroy the supply truck. Then, high-tail it outta there before those tanks get pissed off. If ya need a piece, head to Ammu-Nation. I'm sure they'll at least have a pistol available."  
  
Mike nodded, stood up, and was almost out the door.  
  
"Uhh... Mike, Just remember; Once that supply truck is kaput, get the FUCK outta there."  
  
Mike nodded again, and he left the strip club. A smile stretched across his face as he remembered...  
  
The Banshee. He had to get it! Running out into the middle of the street, a Stallion's brakes screeched, and it's horn blasted.  
  
"What the hell you doin', man?!" The driver said, standing up in the car.  
  
"Fuck you, nigger!" Mike said, flipping the black the finger. Quickly, he jumped at the black, and threw him out of the car.  
  
"Later, Crispy!" Mike shouted as he floored the car, turning left and ignoring the red light.  
  
  
  
Finally, Eight-Ball's now-wrecked bomb shop came into view. Quickly, Mike made a right and sped through the parking lot, shattering the glass and tearing off the hood of the Stallion.  
  
'To hell with this piece'a shit...!' He thought, jumping out of the Stallion, and stepping into the Banshee. He jumped-started the speedster, turned on the radio, and took off right through the glass in front of the Banshee.  
  
Several seconds later, Mike arrived at his apartment. He laughed and stepped out of the Banshee, opening the garage door and pushing the Banshee through. Mike disconnected the starter wires, closed the door, and walked into his apartment.  
  
Almost immidiately, he fell onto the bed and fell asleep. His job wasn't to start until ten the next night. But, he was ready for some new action! 


End file.
